


A Soul's Worth

by nochick_fics



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon - Anime, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Revenge, Soul Selling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-24 05:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12006408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: A cunning demon offers to help Roy track down the ones responsible for the death of a friend.  All it will cost him is his soul.





	1. The Devil in the Pale Moonlight

The night was hot and humid, so much so that even the possibility of rain did not seem likely to quell the heat.  Roy Mustang craned his neck and looked up at the dark sky, his eyes passing over dim specks of light and a moon that was half full and far away.  He had been walking for almost an hour now, with no real sense of time or direction.  In his present state, which was not exactly sober or rational, it was all he could manage just to put one foot in front of the other.  He had no desire to bog down his weary mind with a triviality like an actual destination.  As long as he just kept on moving, then perhaps he could stay one step ahead of the depression that lately seemed to have a knack for following him wherever he went, hot on his heels like some wrathful specter, clawing at his mind and his heart in an effort to sink in its nails and quite possibly never let him go.  
  
It was all because of that goddamn phone booth.  In the weeks following Hughes’ death, Roy had managed to steer clear of the scene of his best friend’s demise, relying instead on the military’s top investigators to relay the details of the crime.  But tonight, for whatever reason, he had felt especially compelled to go there, in spite of the tiny sliver of reason nestled deep within that begged him to stay away for his own emotional sake.  And so he caved to the morbid temptation and went, uncertain of what exactly he had hoped to find but wanting,  _needing_ to look, regardless.  Unfortunately the booth had provided him no answers, no hints or clues or revelations.  There was no sign of what had taken place that night, no apparition or other supernatural entity waiting to reassure him that Maes was in a better place.  There was just… the booth.  An invention of convenience that countless people had used to communicate unimportant things to friends and loved ones and whomever else, an ultimately insignificant little thing that now represented the loss of one of the most important people in his life.  
  
And that was when Roy lost it.  
  
Not outwardly, of course.  He was not the kind of man to reveal the intricacies of his heart so easily, even to the lucky few he cherished most.  But even so, standing inside that phone booth and knowing Maes had been in that exact spot moments before he was snatched out of existence caused something in Roy to break, right down to his soul.  And that was when he started his trek towards the unknown in an effort to outrun the pain that he would never go so far as to show.  
  
A quick glance at the house on his right verified that he had somehow managed to circle an entire block, although he had no recollection of even turning a corner. Roy pressed forward, this time keeping straight ahead, until he ended up at a small park and finally decided to give his feet a much-deserved rest.  
  
He sat down on a random bench and stared at the emptiness in front of him, trying not to think about whether or not Maes had ever brought Elysia there to frolic in the grass.  He then closed his eyes and leaned back with a heavy sigh, lamenting the fact that he was not nearly as drunk as he wanted to be.  While liquor did not completely vanquish the hurt, it numbed him just enough to get him over the hurdle of another day.  These days, that was about the best that he could hope for.  
  
“I swear to you, Maes,” he began, his voice little more than a broken whisper.  “I’m going to find out who did this to you.  When I do, they are going to suffer in ways that no one has ever suffered before.”  
  
“Perhaps I can help you with that.”  
  
Roy bolted up from the seat and spun around, his fingers already sliding into his glove and ready to snap, just that quickly.  And while the unexpected shock of the stranger’s words had cleared his mind considerably, he must have still been somewhat drunk because at first, all he could see were glowing eyes and a sharp-fanged smile.  
  
An instant later, the monstrous vision was gone.  If it had even been there to begin with.  Roy blinked at the figure that emerged from the shadows and into the moonlight, a tall and slender man with black hair and red eyes.  
  
“Please do not be alarmed, Colonel Mustang.  I mean you no harm,” he said, his voice calm and polite.  
  
While the man looked relatively harmless in his black suit and white gloves, Roy was not about to take any chances.  “Who are you?” he asked, his arm still outstretched and ready to defend.  
  
“Ah, yes.  My name.  I’ve been called so many things over the years.”  The stranger’s lips curved into a coy smile, hinting at things that Roy would never know.  “But due to recent events, I think that I’ve become somewhat partial to Sebastian.”  
  
“Alright,  _Sebastian_.  How do you know my name?”  
  
Sebastian took another step forward.  “I know everything about you,” he replied.  “More to the point, I know that the grief you presently feel for your… friend… is matched only by your desire to avenge him.  Hence, my rather generous offer to help.”  
  
Roy could not believe what he was hearing.  And not just because the situation itself had taken on such an unbelievably surreal quality, but because he was stunned beyond words that this person had just summarized his feelings so completely.  Because it was true; his anger towards the person or persons responsible for murdering Maes was dangerously close to consuming him.  The sadness was one thing.  But his rage was something entirely different.  Something  _dangerous_.  Roy was uncertain of the consequences he would face once he unleashed it.  
  
And in all honesty, he was not sure that he would even care.  
  
He lowered his arm, although he kept his glove on for the time being.  Roy trained his gaze on Sebastian, trying to see past the elegant demeanor and pleasant façade to get to the root of the man’s odd but inviting offer.  
  
“How would you help me?” he asked.  “Do you know who killed Hughes?”  
  
“I know a great many things, Colonel Mustang.”  
  
Sebastian rounded the bench and slowly made his way towards Roy until he stood directly in front of him, with that secretive smile and those piercing crimson eyes that glimmered ominously in the surrounding darkness.  
  
“And I am willing to offer my assistance in your endeavor,” he added.  “… For a price.”


	2. The Slightest Clue

Almost one month to the day that Roy happened upon a stranger in a park, Edward Elric came barging into his office without so much as a knock. The short blond alchemist stomped in with a frown and a purpose, prepared to take the officer to task for ordering Major Alex Louis Armstrong to accompany him on the assignment from which he had just returned. He was livid at the suggestion that he somehow needed a guardian and, most of all, appalled at the sheer number of times that the large, muscular man had felt the need to smother him with his bulging pecs in an effort to display camaraderie. It was going to take days, if not longer, before he was able to forget what that quivering mass of muscle felt like pressed firmly against his face.  
  
“Alright, you jerk!” he yelled. “How many damn times do I have to tell you that I don’t need a babysit--what the hell?”  
  
Ed came to a halt, in movement and in words, when he realized that the office was empty… save for a man in a black suit who was bent over Roy’s desk, tidying one of the many stacks of forms that sat atop it.  
  
A man who, unbeknownst to him, was not a man at all.  
  
“Ah. Welcome back, Edward.” The stranger stepped away from the desk and approached the teen as if greeting an old friend rather than someone whom he had just met. “I do hope that you were successful in your travels.”  
  
“Who are you?” Ed asked, his anger momentarily defused by his curiosity.  
  
“My name is Sebastian Michaelis. I am Colonel Mustang’s personal assistant.”  
  
Sebastian extended a white-gloved hand. Upon noticing Ed’s hesitation, he offered a reassuring smile.  
  
“I am well aware of your automail,” he said. “In fact, the Colonel has told me quite a bit about you. It is an honor to finally meet the renowned Fullmetal Alchemist.”  
  
Ed slowly accepted Sebastian’s greeting with a white-gloved hand of his own. He was completely dismantled by the presence of this person who, as far as he could tell, was not even a member of the military.  
  
“Personal assistant, huh? When did that happen?”  
  
“A few weeks ago, shortly after you left,” Sebastian explained. He returned to Roy’s desk and stood dutifully beside it. “The Colonel is in a meeting right now. Would you like to wait for him?”  
  
“Uh…” Ed was tempted to do just that, especially now that he had more questions for Roy than swear words. But ultimately, he decided against it. “No,” he said. “I’ll just… I’ll come back later.”  
  
The teen turned to leave and glanced at the empty table on the other side of the room.  
  
“Are Havoc and Hawkeye with him?” he asked.  
  
“The Lieutenants have been moved to an office of their own, along with Second Lieutenant Breda, Sergeant Fuery, and Warrant Officer Falman,” Sebastian told him. “Given the Colonel’s busy schedule, as well as the sensitive nature of some of his recent endeavors, it was determined to be in his best interest to eliminate all possible distractions.”  
  
Ed did not like the sound of that at all, no matter how elegantly it was worded. Roy was a lot of things, including a class A prick, but he was also a man who had always counted on his team. What was so sensitive about his work that he would willfully push them away?  
  
What the hell was going on?  
  
*****  
  
“What the hell is going on?”  
  
From their respective desks, Jean Havoc and Riza Hawkeye stared calmly at the teen standing in the doorway, not seeming the least bit taken aback that he had made such a boisterous and demanding entrance.  
  
“I take it you’ve met Sebastian,” Jean concluded as he lit a cigarette.  
  
“Oh, yeah. I met Sebastian.” Ed stepped inside and leaned against an empty desk he presumed belonged to Breda or Fuery or Falman. “What the hell?” he reiterated.  
  
Jean tapped ash into an ashtray that was overflowing with cigarette butts. “All we know is that about three weeks ago, Mustang showed up one morning with this guy and announced that he was going to be working as a ‘personal assistant’. At first, everything was fine. Sebastian did all the usual secretary stuff, taking calls, notes, he kept the coffee coming--and made a  _hell_  of a cup of tea, by the way--you know, that kind of thing.”  
  
He leaned back in his seat before continuing, a haze of smoke veiling his contemplative expression.  
  
“Then just last week, we were moved here. Sebastian said that it was because Mustang was working on something that was strictly need-to-know. I guess we didn’t need to know.”  
  
Ed gaped at the smoking lieutenant, shocked by the revelation. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe he would do that to you guys.”  
  
Finally, Riza spoke up. “I’m sure that the Colonel is doing what he feels is best.”  
  
While neither Ed nor Jean were all that surprised by her defense of Roy’s actions, her tone indicated that she did not necessarily agree with his decision.  
  
Ed shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his brow creased in a frown. “And the higher ups don’t have a problem with it? They’re okay with some civilian being this close to the military?”  
  
“Since he’s still here, I guess so.” Jean rooted around in the ashtray for a place to put out his cigarette and then promptly lit another one. “By the look of it, they couldn’t care less.”  
  
“So what’s this guy’s background?” Ed wanted to know. “Where is he from? How did Mustang meet him?”  
  
“No idea,” Jean replied. “Boss didn’t really have much to say when I tried to bring it up.”  
  
“It’s none of our business, Havoc,” Riza interjected. “If there was anything that the Colonel wanted us to know, he would have told us.”  
  
Ed and Jean exchanged glances. They were not entirely convinced that the woman’s statement was accurate. And Ed was not entirely sure that even Riza believed her own words.  
  
“Anyway, I did a little digging,” Jean admitted while exhaling a plume of smoke. “I figured it wouldn’t hurt.”  
  
“And what did you find out about him?” Ed asked.  
  
“Not a damn thing. I checked birth records, the citizen registry, every public record I could think of and found absolutely nothing. It’s like he came from out of nowhere.”  
  
Jean folded his arms and shrugged.  
  
“As far as I can tell, Sebastian Michaelis doesn’t even exist.”  
  
*****  
  
After driving Roy home in a vehicle that was far preferable to the horse and carriage of old, Sebastian opened the door to the officer’s house and stepped aside for him to enter.  
  
“Thank you.” Roy waited until Sebastian came inside before shutting the door and falling back against it with a tired thump. Between meetings and more meetings and being interrogated ruthlessly by a pissy Fullmetal--a conversation during which he resorted to pulling rank to get the kid to shut the hell up--Roy was exhausted to the bone. He closed his eyes and heaved a huge sigh, grateful that another long day had finally come to an end.  
  
Seconds later, he felt slender fingers brush against his chest as his jacket was slowly unbuttoned.  
  
And not for the first time.  
  
“Sebastian.”  
  
“Yes, Colonel?”  
  
“You’re undressing me again.”  
  
Roy forced open his lids to find amused red eyes staring back at him.  
  
“Indeed I am.” Sebastian lowered his arms and offered Roy an apologetic nod of the head. “Please forgive me, Colonel. Old habits die hard.”  
  
Roy was vaguely familiar with the “old habit” to which he was referring. While Sebastian had not been terribly specific about the time he had spent in another world during another age, bound to a young nobleman with his own thirst for vengeance, Roy did recall that Sebastian’s duties involved dressing and undressing the child. And now he regularly attempted to repeat the process with his new employer.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Roy said.  
  
“Would you like a drink?” Sebastian inquired.  
  
“Yes, please.”  
  
Sebastian held his gaze for a moment longer before excusing himself and disappearing into the kitchen. Roy moved into the living room and sat down on the couch, where he began unlacing his boots.  
  
“I trust you had a productive day?” Sebastian asked from the kitchen.  
  
Roy pulled off his right boot and started on the left as the soothing sound of ice hitting glass reached his ears. “I did,” he replied. “But you knew that already.”  
  
“Yes, Sir. I suppose I did.”  
  
As well he should have known, seeing as how he was the reason for Roy’s marked improvement in performance. While Roy had always been an outstanding and capable officer, Sebastian’s presence, most notably his unrivaled penchant for organization, had resulted in a noticeable increase in Roy’s off-field efforts, where he was now tackling twice the workload of any other officer his rank, and quite successfully, at that.  
  
Sebastian arrived with a drink just as Roy finished wrestling with his boot. Roy thanked him and took a long drink, savoring the slow, familiar burn right down to his stomach.  
  
“You know you can sit down, Sebastian.” He looked up from his glass and regarded the demon that would one day take his life. “And for the hundredth time, you can call me Roy when we’re alone.”  
  
“My apologies… Roy.”  
  
Sebastian sat down on a nearby chair and crossed his legs. Roy raised his glass to his lips and drank again in an effort to conceal his amusement over Sebastian’s obvious lack of experience with informality.  
  
“So tell me,” Roy began before finishing off his drink and setting the glass aside. “What do you think of the Führer?”  
  
Their eyes met again, briefly.  
  
“Is this a general query?” Sebastian asked.  
  
Roy nodded slowly. “For now.”  
  
“Well then. He appears to be quite the efficient leader.”  
  
“Appears to be?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
The subtle implication was all Roy needed to hear.  
  
Of course, it would have been far easier just to ask outright if Bradley had played any part in Hughes’ death. One simple command was all it would have taken to end the hunt.  
  
But Roy  _wanted_  the hunt. Although he did depend on Sebastian to a degree, he had no desire to have his enemies gift-wrapped and hand-delivered. Such a simple end to his quest would have been an affront to Hughes’ memory. And so instead of taking the easy route, he would investigate all possible options, leaving no stone unturned. Eventually, when he confirmed the identities of the ones responsible, he would track them all down, one by one.  
  
And then murder them very slowly.  
  
“Thank you, Sebastian.”  
  
Sebastian fixed him another drink and then began cooking dinner without being asked to do so. While Roy contemplated telling him that was not necessary, the smell of actual home cooking was far too enticing and the rumbling of his empty stomach begged him to reconsider. Instead, he stretched out on the couch, alone with his thoughts.  
  
_So… the Führer…_  
  
Roy supposed that he should not have been too surprised. It certainly would not have been the first time that a high-ranking officer was involved in something untoward. And honestly, Roy probably could have turned a blind eye to a number of shady dealings perpetuated by his superiors. He had done it in the past, repeatedly. Such was the price one paid to one day take the lead and change the system.  
  
He could have… and he  _would have_... if not for Hughes.  
  
Roy gritted his teeth as that old familiar heartache attempted to rear its ugly head once again. He missed Hughes so much. More than he could sometimes bear, especially during the sleepless nights when he could think of nothing else but piercing green eyes and a carefree smile.  
  
But no, it would do him no good to wallow in his grief. He had done more than enough of that already. So instead, he forced his thoughts forward, ahead to the next day. If the Führer really was connected to all of this, then Roy needed a way to find out for certain.  
  
A few minutes and another glass of hard liquor later, he knew exactly what he had to do.  
  
Juliet Douglas.  
  
The Führer’s personal secretary.  
  
She had been a somewhat unexpected addition to the staff as well, not unlike Sebastian.  
  
Perhaps the time had come to get to know her.


	3. The Curious Case of Juliet Douglas

While Roy could not say for certain, he was strongly beginning to suspect that Ed had not stopped to take a breath of air once during the last ten minutes of his profanity-laced rant. At first it was the Armstrong thing, which was admittedly rather amusing…  
  
_(Have you ever had Armstrong's nipples in your face? I swear he was trying to breastfeed me!)_  
  
… and then the general mission itself…  
  
_(You treat me like some sort of errand boy when I’m practically a national hero!)_  
  
… and finally…  
  
_(And who the hell is this Sebastian guy? Are you just allowed to hire random people off the streets now?)_  
  
And so on. And on and on and on. It was no different than the teen’s outburst from the day before, but since Ed was clearly unhappy with Roy’s previous dismissal, he was apparently intent on stating his case again today. Loudly.  
  
Roy pressed a hand to his temple, where a dull, throbbing pain was slowly but surely beginning to form. He wished that Sebastian was there right now, as he had a feeling that Ed would not have been nearly as chatty in his presence. But since the demon was presently meeting with Juliet Douglas, Roy was stuck bearing the wrath of the short, blond brat. A necessary sacrifice on his part, considering Sebastian’s objective.  
  
Even so, having to deal with Ed’s mouth was quickly becoming unbearable.  
  
“Fullmetal.”  
  
He should have known that his first attempt at getting Ed’s attention would go unnoticed. Roy sighed and tried again.  
  
_“Fullmetal.”_  
  
To his surprise, the young alchemist actually, miraculously, stopped talking. Roy was so grateful for the silence that he almost hated to break it by speaking again.  
  
“You were chosen for the assignment because you are one of the most capable alchemists in the military,” he explained.  
  
And it was true. For all of Ed’s faults, he would always manage to get the job done. Whatever it took.  
  
“Having Major Armstrong accompany you was merely a precaution because he is  _also_  one of the most capable alchemists in the military,” Roy continued. “In spite of his… peculiarities.”  
  
The teen snorted laughter at his polite choice of wording. “Fine,” he said, folding his arms and fixing Roy with a questioning gaze. “So what about Sebastian?”  
  
“Sebastian is not up for discussion.”  
  
“But--!”  
  
“But nothing.” Roy leaned back in his chair. “I am often willing to overlook your constant flirtation with insubordination but not in this particular instance. My reasons for hiring Sebastian do not pertain to you and we will not have this conversation again. Do I make myself clear?”  
  
He could tell that Ed was struggling not to debate and honestly, Roy could not blame him, being someone who had doubts about his own superior officers. But unlike Havoc and the others, who were trained to accept Roy’s orders at face value even if they did not always understand or agree, Edward Elric did not subscribe to the military’s notion of blind loyalty. If something seemed wrong, he was damn sure going to question it. It was a fine trait, but also very bothersome in a situation like this one.  
  
Before Ed could reply, and quite possibly sparing Roy the trouble of having to reprimand him, the office door opened. Juliet Douglas entered, followed closely by Sebastian, and Roy immediately forgot about Ed and everything else.  
  
“Please forgive the interruption, Colonel,” Sebastian said as he led the secretary over to Roy’s desk. “The Führer is requesting the minutes from your meeting yesterday and Ms. Douglas was kind enough to offer to deliver them.”  
  
“That’s fine,” Roy replied. “We were finished anyway, weren’t we?”  
  
When he did not hear a response, he glanced at Ed… who was staring at Juliet with a perplexed expression. While the teen’s reaction did strike Roy as slightly odd, he was too distracted by his own agenda to give it much thought.  
  
“Fullmetal,” he tried again.  
  
Ed snapped out of his daze and blinked at Roy. “Uh… yeah. I… I guess I’ll go now.”  
  
He slowly backed away from the trio and walked out of the office. Roy did not see the way that Ed took one last look over his shoulder, his brow creased in a frown, before closing the door.  
  
Nor did it occur to him to contemplate why the woman had failed to acknowledge Ed’s presence. He had far more important things to worry about at the moment.  
  
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with Sebastian,” Roy said as the demon plucked a seemingly random file from the stack on his desk which just so happened to be the very one that he needed to give her.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Juliet replied. “The Führer appreciates all of your hard work.”  
  
While her tone and mannerisms were pleasant enough, something about her rubbed Roy the wrong way. Then again, if the Führer  _was_  somehow involved with Hughes’ death, it stood to reason that she might also know something about it.  
  
He rose to his feet as she took the file from Sebastian and left the office. As soon as she was gone, Roy rounded the desk and leaned against it; he had a feeling that he should be standing for whatever Sebastian was about to tell him.  
  
“So?” Roy jammed his right hand into his pocket, his fingers closing around his glove. “What were you able to find out?  Anything out of the ordinary?”  
  
“Nothing immediately discernible on the surface,” Sebastian responded. “Much like the Führer, Ms. Douglas appears to be very efficient in her position.”  
  
“Appears to be.” Roy shook his head. Once again, the implication was obvious. Both the Führer and Juliet Douglas had something to hide.  
  
“Yes,” Sebastian said, nodding solemnly. “An admirable feat for a woman who is deceased.”  
  
The statement caught Roy off guard.  _Way_  off guard.  
  
“... What?”  
  
He gaped at Sebastian, his mind trying to wrap around the revelation. In return, Sebastian merely smiled in that subtle way that Roy had become rather acquainted with over the past few weeks.  
  
“Juliet Douglas was a soldier in the State Military,” Sebastian explained. “It is rumored that she accidentally shot an Ishbalan child, which sparked the uprising that started the war. Quite the accomplishment for having died two years prior. Or not at all, according to the most updated list of active duty personnel.”  
  
Roy could not believe what he was hearing, and he even went so far as to open his mouth to say so. But in the short time that Sebastian had been by his side, he knew full well that the demon never lied. He may not have always divulged the entire truth, leaving Roy to twenty-question his way to the facts, but every single word that came out of his mouth was irrefutable.  
  
Therefore, this was no clerical error. Sebastian would not have wasted his time if it was as simple as that.  
  
But what did it all mean?  
  
*****  
  
It was a question that Roy was still trying to answer hours later between glasses of whiskey while Sebastian prepared dinner. Who was the woman masquerading as a dead soldier? Was the Führer aware of this false identity? And if so… was he also aware of her  _true_  identity as well?  
  
Roy had no idea what to make of any of it, and he had ended his work day with far more questions than answers. Whatever the case, whatever the explanation, all he knew for certain was that the secrets of the military ran far deeper than he ever imagined, and that it was most likely those very same secrets that cost Hughes his life.  
  
At any rate, there was nothing more he could do about it tonight. So instead, he finished his drink and then headed into his bedroom to change out of his uniform. He stripped off his jacket and shirt and tossed them onto the bed. After that, he unzipped his pants and pushed them down a bit before pausing to look at his reflection in the mirror perched on the wall above his dresser. Not unlike the hundreds of times he had done so in the past, but for reasons other than vanity as of late.  
  
And there it was, the contract that Roy had entered into without hesitation for the sake of vengeance, branded in intricate and ominous detail onto his lower right side just above the hip. Even now, almost a full month later, he could remember the immense pain of being etched, not just on his flesh but right down to his soul. Sebastian had smiled the entire time and then, for one brief moment, he… changed… into some terrible yet thankfully indistinguishable thing, made all the more awful by the fact that it was still smiling when it caressed his cheek with long, sharp black nails and said--  
  
“You’re thinking about my face.”  
  
Sebastian stood in the doorway with his hands folded neatly in front of him.  
  
“My  _true_  face,” he amended.  
  
Even if Roy had wanted to lie, he knew that there was no point in doing so.  While Sebastian could not read his exact thoughts, he had an uncanny way of knowing exactly what was on Roy's mind.  “Yes,” he admitted.  “Although I have to say that I prefer your human one.”  
  
“Most humans do,” the demon replied with a grin. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
When Sebastian made no move to leave, Roy decided to ask him something that he had been curious about since the night they met.  
  
“How many people… souls… have you… consumed?”  
  
“Oh, far too many to count,” Sebastian answered as he dutifully hung Roy’s shirt and jacket sothey would not wrinkle. “However, I should add that the frequency has diminished significantly over time.”  
  
“Quality over quantity?”  
  
“Precisely.”  
  
Roy chuckled bitterly. “Then I suppose I should be flattered that you find mine worthwhile.”  
  
“You humans are such a strange bunch,” Sebastian said, stepping behind Roy and meeting his gaze in the mirror.  
  
“Why is that?” Roy wanted to know.  
  
“Because you believe that your grief and your hate and your rage taint you in some way...”  
  
Sebastian's hand moved along Roy's pale skin, his slender, black-nailed fingers tracing over the mark that bound them. His gentle motions belied the true purpose behind their union, appearing more like the precious touch of one's beloved rather than an affirmation of impending carnage and inevitable demise.  
  
“... when in fact, those are the things that make you desirable.”  
  
Roy swallowed hard and tried not to tremble as red eyes watched him very carefully. He wanted to be disgusted, and on some level, he was. Unfortunately, that only served to make matters worse.  
  
“I’ll… be done soon,” he managed.  
  
With a knowing smile, Sebastian lowered his hand and took a step back, then nodded courteously at Roy’s reflection.  
  
“Very well.” He turned to leave and casually added, “I sense that Edward’s soul is also tortured. Almost as much as yours.”  
  
Roy frowned at the door that Sebastian had closed upon leaving, stunned into silence by the abrupt change of subject. Was the demon hinting that he wanted to eat Ed’s soul, too? Ed did not even believe in God, let alone the possibility of angels or demons or the rest of it, although one would have never known that earlier, the way he stared at Juliet Douglas as if he had seen a ghost...  
  
And then it hit him, like a punch in the gut. Roy sat down on the bed, sparing himself the sight of his mirror twin’s horrified expression.  
  
Until that very second, he had completely forgotten about the picture that Al had shown him years ago, as if to remind Roy--and perhaps himself--that he used to be whole. The picture of two little boys with two perfectly intact bodies.  
  
And their mother.  
  
The same woman that bore a striking resemblance to the Führer’s personal secretary.  
  
_Identical_ , even.  
  
It was no wonder that Ed reacted the way he did.  
  
“What the hell is going on?” Roy whispered to the empty room, echoing a question that Ed had asked numerous times the day before.  
  
Little did he know that he was going to find out the very next day.


End file.
